Vegeta is a Cool Dad
by MxVegetaOuji
Summary: Vegeta struggles to handle his rebellious teenage son to the point that he turns to an old friend for advice. He learns some things about his son that help him be a Cool Dad.


**This is just a silly one that I thought about for 30 seconds before writing it. I apologize in advance. I would put this in the KakaVege one shot compilation, but I'm not sure how long it's gonna be, so I might break it into a few long chapters. I'm just writing off the seat of my ass. That and OOC is pretty intense here so whatever.**

 **Be warned there is some Depressed!Vegeta in this, but it's far less intense than I could've made it.**

 **Also because I have zero self control when it comes to putting songs in fics, I put in A Part Me by Neck Deep.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

More muffled sounds come from my sons room, white and red light flooding from under the doorjamb. I sigh. It's half two in the morning. I trudge over to the door, knocking on it lightly.

 _"FINISH HIM!"_

I hear some gross crunching noises. I cringe.

" _JAX WINS!_ _FATALITY!_ "

His television seems to be too loud for him to hear me. I knock harder.

"Fuck off, dad."

I close my eyes. I'm too tired to deal with this shit right now.

"Vegeta! If you're not going to turn it off then turn it down. You're gonna wake the whole neighborhood if you keep it up."

" _Fuck_ the neighborhood." He turns it up.

I give up. Walking back to my own room, I decide to talk to my long-time friend tomorrow to see if he could have any advice to help.

* * *

Half eleven in the morning. Vegeta still isn't awake. I continue folding clothes, the ringing phone pressed between my cheek and shoulder. I hear a click.

"Nappa."

"Vegeta."

I take a breath, prepping myself for the rant I'm about to spew at this poor man. He beats me to it.

"It's the kid, isn't it?"

" _Yes._ He woke me up in the middle of the night last night playing those damned games. I can't get through to him. I know you run a daycare center." I sigh, rubbing my face. "Please help me."

There's a moment of silence on the other end before he sighs.

"It's more of a youth directional center. No little kids. Aside from that, I feel like Vegeta could benefit from having a friend his age to hang out with. Might calm him down a bit. You have to take into account that graduating from high school is really stressful for any _normal_ kid, let alone one that's lost his mother. I think I know just the kid. I'll talk to his parents tomorrow about it, and hopefully they'll agree with me. I'll call you back if I get anything else. For the time being, try not to push him too hard. He's doing the things he's doing because he doesn't know how to cope. Make him some of his favorite food, it'll make him think."

I stay silent for a minute. then nod to myself. "Alright. Thank you, Nappa. I owe you big time."

"No problem man, anything for you."

"See ya."

"Bye."

I set the phone down, taking a minute to think.

We lost my wife three years ago, it was hard for everyone, especially Vegeta. Before that he seemed really happy, doing well in school, having friends over...

After... He shut himself away, his grades dropped, he stopped having people over, stopped going to parties. He just _disconnected_. Only recently has he gotten so angry.

I tried to get him to a therapist, but...

 _"I'm not some fucking mental case, dad. Leave my shit alone."_

He really wasn't into it.

I think about what Nappa said. He's the kid expert, it can't hurt to try.

Abandoning the laundry, I go to the kitchen. It's been a while since I've actually cooked anything, we always order take out.

I rack my brain, trying to remember my son's favorite breakfast. Although it's already noon, he'd be just waking up.

 _Chocolate and strawberry pancakes._

Taking a deep breath, I scour the fridge and pantry, finding everything I need, barely.

There are a bunch of strawberries left in the fridge, and a long forgotten bag of chocolate chips, but they're unopened and a month away from the expiry date, so I shrug and continue.

A half used box of pancake mix sits sadly on the shelf of the pantry, next to a bunch of other nondescript boxes.

I get to work on these pancakes. The time goes by quick, and though I had to toss a few, soon I had a handsome stack.

I pour a shit ton of syrup on them, remembering last minute that he likes them soaked. I stab a fork in the top and bring it upstairs to his room along with a tall glass of chocolate milk. I set the milk down when I get to his door and tap on it lightly. No answer. I push it open, seeing Vegeta sprawled out, tangled in his blankets, half hanging off his bed in only his boxers.

As much as the kid pisses me off, he's _my_ kid. I smile and set the food on his side desk, and gently shake him awake.

"Hey, junior. I made you breakfast."

He blinks awake, squinting up at me with a sleepy frown.

"What?"

"I made your favorite. Eat up."

Before he can get mad at me I leave the room and go my office. Hopefully we can make amends soon.

I hope whoever this kid Nappa has in mind is enough to make Vegeta open up, just a little bit.

I set to work.

* * *

I'm too sleepy to yell at the bastard when he wakes me up, so I just try to scowl. It seems to have scared him off. I look over, a big stack of pancakes just sitting there. I pout. I can't _not_ eat these.

Half way through the pancakes I sit in my gaming chair, still shoveling the delicious breakfast in my face. I didn't really have dinner last night, I'm just really hungry.

I turn on my TV with my big toe, taking my controller and opening up YouTube immediately. The video I was watching last pops up, I press play.

"D-... Do you mean Spotify?"

I chuckle. No matter how many times I watch this same video I can't help but laugh. I finish off my breakfast and set the dirty plate on my bed.

I am so _fucking_ bored. I wish I had somewhere to be and something to do, but I don't really have any friends anymore.

I guess that's my fault.

I sigh. Nothing to do, nowhere to be... What to do with myself?

I spin in my chair. My walls are covered in posters, every free surface has graffiti all over it. A stack of unused books sits beside my closet.

 _No._

I ignore them and keep scanning. My eyes land on the long forgotten acoustic guitar in the corner. It hasn't been tuned let alone played in a few years now. Nope.

I could make my bed, but that would only keep me busy for about 30 seconds. I could clean my whole room, but seeing as I literally only sit in this chair and lay in my bed, there's nothing really to be cleaned. I mean, there are a few empty chip bags scattered around, but those don't need to be taken care of _right this minute._

I could exercise. I haven't done that in a while. I glance at the regimen calendar from six months ago, abandoned two weeks in. I shake my head.

I glance down at my skinny body. Despite eating shit food, I've never gained weight. I silently thank my teenage metabolism. But that never stopped me from wanting big muscles.

Whatever.

I run my hand through my hair. Ew.

When was the last time I showered? I think and think. I don't remember. I shove myself out of my chair, and grab the sticky plate from my bed and head to the downstairs bathroom.

I toss the plate in the sink before entering the room just down the hall, dark brown curtains and bath mats hugely contrasting against the white tiles. I snatch a towel from the cabinet and toss it on the toilet seat cover.

I glare at myself in the mirror before shaking my head and stripping down the clothes that I've been wearing for probably the last few days.

I feel better than I usually do for some reason. Maybe that's why I'm actually showering.

Even naked I still feel like I'm wearing clothes. I must be real grimy if I feel like this. I toss the nasty clothes in the hamper before setting the temperature of the water.

Standing out of the shower with my hand testing the water, I close my eyes. I'm still so tired.

I get in, letting the steamy water hit my back. I have to go all out with this shower, I haven't in so long. Starting on my hair, I work my way down until my fingers are pruny and my skin is red and hot to the touch.

I really did scrub my skin to hell, but I do feel a bit better now.

I wrap the soft towel around my waist after drying off and head back to my room.

I end up making my bed immediately, now in the cleaning mood. The dark blue sheets and blanket are nice and square now. I grin a little.

I search my closet for something to wear. I always feel silly standing here in my boxers, for some reason. It's a weird way to feel, right?

I pull on some maroon joggers and a loose black t-shirt. Not like I'm leaving the house anyway.

I crack my neck and sit back down. Now I'm really tired. I hate this.

I lay back down onto my freshly made bed. The sheets crumple under me.

I go back to sleep.

* * *

Less than half an hour goes by before I hear the shower turn on in the next room.

 _Finally._

Breakfast must have him in a good mood if he's showering. I wish he would more, but I can't force him, he's a grown boy.

It's a _long_ shower. Longer than I expected. I'm not going to complain, though. At least he's showering at all.

My phone rings. I see Nappa's name and immediately pick up.

"What's up?"

"Hey. I talked to the kids parents. It took some convincing, but they agreed to let him stay at yours for a few days after they meet the two of you. I gave them your phone and address. They said they'd be there at six."

"You're a life saver."

"It's what I do. Take it easy man."

"See ya."

"Bye."

I hang up and lean back in my chair, glancing at the time. Its half one, I have four and a half hours to mentally prepare myself. I take a deep breath and go back to finishing my work. I smack my hand against my forehead. _I forgot to ask the kids fucking name._

Now I have to do the awkward introduction, asking names and everything. I hate that. I decide not to warn Vegeta ahead of time, he'd only retaliate and make things harder at this point. I end up rushing through the end of my work and decide to go out for lunch.

I make my way to the second floor, knocking on Vegeta's door.

Nothing.

I open the door to a very similar image as earlier, except the food and plate are gone and the bed is made. I'm impressed. I decide to leave him alone for now, but I leave him a note.

 _Hey, kiddo. I went out for lunch. I wanted to let you keep sleeping but I'll bring something back for you.  
-Dad  
P.S. Thanks for showering._

I leave the note on his desk and leave, closing the door quietly behind me. I make my way out of the house, wondering on how this kid is gonna get along with Vegeta.

That's another thing. I have to go grocery shopping. I pat my back pocket, checking for my wallet, and make my way out of the front door.

I hope Vegeta will be fine on his own.

I shake my head. What am I thinking? The boy is eighteen, he'll be perfectly fine on his own. For a few hours at least.

I think on meeting this family as I drive, and I feel silly. I'm not the one that has to cooperate with someone else's kid, that's Vegeta. If anything this will be hard on _him,_ not me. I'm being selfish. That's a bad habit that needs breaking.

I feel bad for my son. I have no idea what's going on in his head, but I know he's not handling it the healthy way. I'm not even sure he knows what the healthy way _is._

I don't know. Rue was the good parent. But now she's gone and I'm lost in more ways than one.

* * *

My dad left a note. I ignore it.

it's three in the afternoon already. My stomach grumbles. I ignore that, too.

I don't want to get up. I don't want to be awake. Why can't I just fucking _sleep?_

I snatch my phone from my side desk. No texts, three spam emails, one YouTube notification.

I turn my phone off and toss it into my chair. I don't even know why I have the damn thing. Not like I ever use it for anything.

I groan, reaching my hand out for it. I do use it.

Music.

My dad isn't home, so I can listen to it out loud. I go to my premade playlist and just lay down, letting my mind focus on the gentle piano. I love the piano.

I lose myself in thought. Everything just feels so empty lately. Nothing is exciting. Nothing is colorful.

It's just all boring.

It wasn't like this before mom died. Everything went downhill from there. I lost all my friends because I just couldn't make myself be social. They thought I was mad at them or some stupid shit. I just didn't know what to do.

So I lost my favorite parent and my social life, and because I was so distracted by all of that, my grades fell. I stopped caring. I didn't want to care, it made it hurt worse.

I sigh. I'm a pathetic mess.

No matter how much I crave companionship and progress, I'm just so tired all the time. I try to make myself do things. I really really try, but once I make even the slightest mote of progress, I'm drained.

So tired. So fucking tired.

So I end up trying less and less. Throwing myself at video games (that I'm terrible at, for the record), and just filling the boring endless day with YouTube videos. It's all pointless. It never makes me happy. I laugh, sure, but that's far from happiness.

I just don't know what to do anymore. I have no interests, no goals. Nothing.

I have nothing.

I text my dad.

 _If youre bringing food home I want chicken tenders_

I wait. A minute ding and a tiny vibration.

 _Already got it. On my way home soon. Try to look presentable._

All I care about is my food. I couldn't give less of a shit about 'looking presentable'. If the God-damned Pope came to our house I wouldn't be changing out of these clothes.

The song changes. I settle back down.

I'm getting too worked up over shit that doesn't matter anymore. Leave it to me to make a chicken out of a feather.

I bury my head into my pillows. I'm so comfy... And tired.

More naps wouldn't hurt.

* * *

I come into the house with loads of grocery bags all up my arms. I had called Vegeta to ask him to help, but he never answered. Peculiar, he texted me earlier about his tenders. He probably went back to bed.

I worry so much about him.

I unload my arms and begin to put groceries away, not sure how to arrange everything, the fridge has been empty for so long. Maybe having actual food in the house will make him eat more regularly.

And not have a diet that is 90% chips.

I love my kid more than anything, but that doesn't mean I'm a good parent. I'm actually a pretty shitty parent. I never put my foot down, I kind of let Vegeta do whatever the hell he wants, and I never say anything to him about the several noise complaints we've gotten from neighbors.

I just want him to be happy.

I glance at the clock on the microwave. Four thirty.

My nerves are wearing down, I'm all anxious. Even after scolding myself in the car about being selfish, I can't help the jittery feeling I get when I think about having to look after someone else's kid. What if he gets hurt? What if the two boys don't get along at all? I have no idea how to handle my own son, let alone someone else's.

No, Vegeta! You can do this, he's only a kid. Only a kid and his parents. Hopefully he's less troubled than mine. Or their troubled-ness is something they bond over? Where is he going to sleep? We don't have a guest bedroom, and the couch doesn't pull out, so he'll either have to sleep on the couch or he'll have to sleep in Vegeta's room, which wouldn't be a problem, but they'd be sharing a bed, and boys can be weird when it comes to sleeping in the same bed.

Sometimes I wish I had a girl, it would be so much easier.

What am I going to do in the time left? Sit here with my thoughts? Probably.

I've already eaten, my work for the day is finished, the groceries are put away, I finished the laundry. What to do, what to do.

I could read, I guess. Yeah, sure.

In my office there are a few books, mostly things about accounting and self-help parenting. I've read all those. I find an old battered copy of _The Taming of the Shrew_ and shrug. I guess.

Plopping down on the couch with the book in hand, I flick to particularly wrinkled pages, and find that Rue had read this probably a million times and had left sections highlighted and little notes jotted in the borders. I find a sad smile creeping onto my face. Instead of actually reading the story I go through and read all of her insights and highlighted sections.

It made me feel closer to her, somehow.

Before I could really think about how much time is left the doorbell rings. I silently hope it woke Vegeta up so I don't have to.

I set the book down and pat myself down, smoothing out wrinkles. I open the door with a big smile and check out the gauntlet.

The mom seems quite young. She's short with a cute round face and short shaggy hair. The father is significantly taller, actually pretty intimidating. He looks like he could be really muscular under the loose sweater he's covered himself with.

The kid is even taller than his dad, and the only reason I can tell he's the kid is because he seems to be trying to suck his head into his body to hide.

"Hi!" I stick my hand out to the father for a shake. He takes it quite firmly. "My name's Vegeta. Please, come inside." I shake the moms hand before getting out of the way and letting them in.

One thing me and my kid have in common is that we're terrible at meeting new people. I automatically head for the kitchen, shouting to them sitting in the living room. "Do you want any drinks?! I'll bring in some water!"

I'm so nervous that my hands shake carrying the platter of glasses back into the room. The three eye me from the couch, obviously reproachful.

I set the glasses down and sit on the other couch facing them. I have no idea what to do with my hands. I fold them in my lap.

"Bardock." The father says. His name.

"Bardock! Wonderful to meet you. And you, ma'am?"

"I'm Gine. This is our son Kakarot."

"What a wonderful name. Both of you." My whole back is shaking. I can feel sweat beading on my forehead, but I dare not wipe it away. "My friend Nappa said that you would be willing to let Kakarot stay here for the time being."

"Yes, we're hoping Kakarot and your son will become friends. It seems they both need it." Gine pats her sons knee gently. I slowly see his posture improve. It's kind of comforting to know that I'm not the only one nervous. I give him a gentle smile.

"Well, I can't say anything for you, Kakarot, but I know that Vegeta desperately needs a friend. Ever since we lost his mother he's been very reclusive."

"I'm sorry about your wife, Vegeta. That must've been hard on you two." Gine really does seem to be the talkative one of these parents.

I glance at the book on the coffee table and nod sadly, "Yeah, even though it was a few years ago it's still really hard to deal. I'm more worried about my son though, he's not mature enough to know how to deal with his grief in a healthy way. Kakarot seems like a very nice boy, I think he'll be able to bring out the best of my kid, and vise versa, of course."

The three of them nod silently, seeming to think about it for a moment. Gine speaks again.

"We were thinking about leaving Kakarot here for a week, so they have time to get to know each other. We would offer for Vegeta to come to ours, but from the info we got from Mr. Nappa, it doesn't seem that he likes to leave here at all, so we want to respect that."

"A week is perfectly fine. I work from home to keep an eye on him, so they wont be alone at all really, if you're worried about his safety at all," I motion to Kakarot gently. He seems fine now, his head fully emerged from his shoulders. Now he's just absently gazing around the room, inspecting everything. He really does seem like a sweet kid.

"We have plenty of food, too, so he definitely won't go hungry under my supervision."

Bardock has just been staring at me the whole time, it's unnerving.

"Bardock, is there anything you want to know?"

He shrugs, "I'd prefer Kakarot to sleep separately from your boy. Nothing against yours, it's just that he's a queer." He pokes an aggressive thumb at Kakarot, who immediately shrinks back down into his shoulders. The display is disturbing, but I pretend to approve for the boys' sakes.

I nod, "Of course. I understand the concern."

"Hn." Bardock goes back to arms crossed and silence.

There is a tense moment of silence, but Vegeta breaks it by stomping down the stairs grumpily. I'm happy he's gotten out of bed, but he looks a mess.

"Who the hell are these people?" He crosses his arms. I cringe.

"Vegeta. Don't be rude. This is Kakarot and his parents Bardock and Gine. Say hi."

He scoffs and snatches a glass of water from the table, sauntering away back upstairs. I sigh.

"I apologize for his behavior, but that _is_ what we wanna correct, right?"

Gine nods, also looking in the direction Vegeta went.

"That seems to about cover it. Kakarot already has all of his things in the car, if you're ready to get this ball rolling."

I laugh. "You're very prepared. Of course. I'll help you bring it all in," I start to stand but Gine waves me away.

"No no no, you go on, we'll take care of it. Kakarot, why don't you go with Mr. Vegeta so he can show you your room."

Kakarot nods and stands next to me, his shoulders hunched forward. His parents go to the car to bring his bags in.

I pat him gently on the shoulder, "C'mon kid. I'll show you around."

I lead him down the hall, "This is the kitchen, and right here is the bathroom. And the next door down is my office, you can come in anytime if you need anything," I lean down close to him, trying my best Dad Voice.

"Listen, Kakarot. I don't care that you're gay, alright? You can sleep on the couch if you want, but feel free to sleep in Vegeta's room, too."

His face turns pink. "U-uh, I'll probably end up sleeping on the couch. He seems like he already doesn't like me."

I pat him, "Nonsense. It just takes persistence. I can tell you're a shy boy, but even if you just watch him play video games he'll warm up to you quick. But, if you do end up wanting to sleep on the couch that's fine with me. Just make yourself comfortable. C'mon."

I lead him back out into the living room, where Gine is setting down the last bit of Kakarots things next to the couch. She huffs, standing back up. "Alright! That's everything. We'll excuse ourselves now. Kakarot, behave yourself."

He shrugs, "I don't know when I ever misbehave, but alright."

He waves to his parents as they leave and close the door behind them.

"Alright. Vegeta's room is upstairs, have fun. And don't let him get to you, he can say some pretty nasty things but there's never anything really behind them. Just shrug it off, alright?"

He nods, placing his hand on the banister. He looks back at me for a second like he's gonna ask me something, but shakes his head and heads upstairs.

I take a deep breath. _Finally._

* * *

I'm already three stages into Peggle when the boy comes in, not bothering to knock first. I don't say anything.

He walks around my bed, kicking his shoes off in a neat pair at the end before planting himself behind me, watching me play.

"Uh... Hi."

I grunt as acknowledgement. He stays quiet for a second.

"What are you playing?"

"Shut up."

"Oh, really? I've never heard of that before. How do you play?" He responds sarcastically. I cant help but laugh a little, but I don't say anything. I just keep playing, hyper-aware of his shifting and moving behind me.

After about an hour I hear him slide off my bed and go to the corner of my room by my forgetten guitar.

"You play?"

"Of course. Every time I play the dust gets an inch thicker," My voice is dripping with sarcasm.

"Hm. I'm guessing its not even tuned then," He plucks a string, a strained rusty sound resounding. "Ugh. I'm gonna fix this up."

"Go for it."

I picks it up by the neck, sitting back down on my bed and adjusting the strings.

Its oddly calming to listen to the gentle plucking while playing, but all too soon he has the pitch set and strums it experimentally.

"When's the last time you played?" He asks, gently picking.

I shrug. "I'm playing right now," I point to the television. He laughs quietly.

"I used to take lessons as a kid and now I just kind of teach myself," He plucks a cute little tune, not putting much thought to it. "I do it to stop the bad thoughts."

I pause for a second. I mean, this kid probably came from Nappa's facility, so of course he would have problems. Everyone does, really. "I can't do that."

"Stop the bad thoughts?" He stops playing.

"Yeah, I guess."

"Sure you can," he starts again, nice and slow, "You just gotta find something you love and do it 'till your hands fall off."

I shrug, "I like to sleep."

He scoffs, "That doesn't count. Ignoring shit doesn't make it better. Ya gotta get up and _do_ somethin'."

"Nah." I run out of balls before I can clear the level. "Fuck." I close the game and turn off my console, staring at the boys reflection in the black screen.

"What's your name?" I ask, realizing I hadn't even given him that courtesy. I may be an asshole but I have manners.

"Kakarot." He looks back at me through the screen, making eye contact. I let the name roll off my tongue.

"Kakarot. Nice." I swivel in my chair to see him, "So exactly how much do you play?"

He shrugs with a small smile on his lips. "I mean I can do the basic shit but I'm obsessed with playing this one song. I just play and play and never get tired of playing it.

"Well?" I toss a hand at the guitar, "Impress me."

He shakes his head with the same little smile, "I don't know how easy that'll be."

He props the instrument on his knee and leans over it, finding the right starting chord. Strumming at a steady pace, he falls right into the rhythm of the song, and I can tell he's played it hundreds of times. The song starts to sound familiar, and I'm about to say something before he starts singing a lot more gently than the original.

"I'll paint you a picture, with words I miss him. We still talk like everyday, but we don't talk in the same way that we used to. I'll move on and forget you. We could never see eye to eye, but either way, I like him 'cause he's smart, headstrong and independent. He puts me in my place, but I don't know where I stand. And if only I could find the words, or muster up the nerve to tell him I'll never forget him, and he'll always have a part of me. Don't let me go down this road again,"

I take the small pause to jump in on the second vocal, his smile gets a little wider.

We sing the rest of the song together, him mostly doing the vocals. Right at the end the parts split, but we take them seamlessly.

"You know that song?" He asks, taking his hands off the strings.

I shrug. "Maybe."

He smiles again.

"You gay or somethin'?" I say, not bothering with the embarrassing pleasantries.

"O-oh! Uh, yeah. Is... Is that an issue?" He rubs the back of his neck and looks to the side, his head shrinking down into his shoulders.

I wave a hand dismissively, "No, no. Me too. I was just wondering because I noticed you changed the lyrics a bit."

"Oh, yeah," He sounds out of breath, "It's a habit. I've never sang it the other way."

I nod.

"Wait, so you're gay?" He hops off the bed and puts the guitar back in the stand.

"Bi, actually. But I do prefer guys." I put my hands behind my head and swivel back in forth in my chair slowly.

"Does your dad know?" He wrings his hands.

"My dad hardly knows my fucking birthday, let alone my sexuality. It's never came up, so I never bothered mentioning it." I shrug, "It's not that big of a deal to me. It's just another thing going on in my head."

He hoists himself on the bed entirely, crossing his legs and planting his hands in his lap.

"Whoa. I wish I had that confidence."

"I wouldn't call it confidence," I chuckle with no humor in my tone, "Just a lack of giving a shit, I guess."

"Still," He tilts his head to one side, cracking it. "I give a shit about everything, I can't _not._ "

I tap my temple, "It's all in your ol' egg."

He smiles sweetly, "That's what they all keep telling me, anyway."

I nod, "Exactly."

He leans back and sprawls himself out.

"Your dad was right. You are easy to warm up to."

I get up and lay next to him, staring at the ceiling from the opposite end of the bed.

"My dad should be the last person to talk about warming up to me. He's been trying for eighteen years, you, on the other hand, are nice and toasty within about two hours."

We lay there for a minute before he sits up, "It's getting late. I should unpack."

Without looking I point to my dresser. "I don't use that, so it's empty. Go crazy."

He hops off and leaves the room to get his bags. He comes up with heaping armfuls, setting everything down.

I sit up, "Jesus Christ, boy. How long are you staying?"

He wipes his forehead. "A week," and starts to organize already folded clothes into the drawers.

"I had no fucking idea you were even coming let alone staying for a whole week." I lay back down, watching his upside down form empty bag after bag, "This is why I can't stand my father."

He stops and looks at me, tilting his head again, "Do you want me to leave sooner? I can always have Mr. Vegeta call my parents."

"No, it's not like that. And please for the love of _God_ don't refer to my father as 'Mr. Vegeta'."

He shrugs, folding empty bags and putting them in the bottom drawer, "That's just how I was raised to talk about adults."

"Your parents sound like squares." I turn over, letting my blood go back into the rest of my body.

He sits next to me, "It's not that, it's just that if I don't show respect I get a swift crack on the ass from my dad, so at this point it's an automatic."

"How old are you? Eighteen?" He nods. I scoff. "And your dad still spanks you like a child. Ridiculous."

"Were you never spanked?"

I shake my head. "I would get smacked on the hand, but the last time that even happened was when I was six or something. Honestly," I look up at him, "If my dad tried to hit me I'd hit 'im right back. I don't give a shit."

He rolls his eyes, "Very bold of you, Vegeta. I'm impressed."

I sit up and lean against the tall bedpost, tapping my head again, "Like I said. Just don't give a shit. Solves all your problems."

He laughs. "I'm pretty sure it doesn't work that way."

"Sure it does," My alarm rings. "It's half eight," and I get up and go to my bedside desk, pulling out an orange bottle.

"Whats that?"

I pop three in my hand, taking all of them at once with no water, "Mood suppressors. They don't really do their job, but they do help me sleep... Sometimes."

"Are they prescription? It's in a pharmacy bottle."

I put the bottle back. "Nah, bought 'em online."

"Isn't that dangerous?"

"Not if you don't care."

He nods, thinking about it. "Alright, fair enough. I'm gonna go take my nightly shower. I'll see you in a little bit."

"Alright man." I lay down with my arms behind my head, looking at the ceiling again. I hear him leave with a click of the door.

After laying there for a minute I prop myself on my elbows. Looking around, not a single thing looks or feels different. I thought having Kakarot stay here would make me uncomfortable and angry at the very least, but it seems the opposite. If anything I'm less upset than I usually am at this time of night. It's a foreign but pleasant feeling. I smile.

It's really nice.

Kakarot pokes his head in the door, obviously in a towel.

"Uh, this is gonna sound really dumb but can you help me with your shower?" He gives me a silly lopsided smile. I laugh.

"Sure, c'mon." I heave myself out of bed and march past him and sit on the banister of the stairs, sliding down comically. He laughs and follows me, fist holding tight to the towel around his waist.

"Just like this, see?" I turn the handle down to the hottest setting, "If you want it cooler then twist it the other way."

"Alright, thanks man."

I leave the bathroom and head upstairs, grinning like an idiot the whole way.


End file.
